


Capella

by LadyMuzzMuzz



Series: Navigating the Stars. [7]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dadgil, F/M, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMuzzMuzz/pseuds/LadyMuzzMuzz
Summary: Everything is going to be alright, you're going to find Vergil, drag him back home, and let Sunshine rip into him for making her worry about him.  And then you're going to make fun of him for falling for such a stupid trap.  Constantly.  Until Nero goes to college or something.-Dante
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Series: Navigating the Stars. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491467
Comments: 98
Kudos: 241
Collections: Devil May Cry - Vergil x Reader/OC Recommendations





	1. Well... shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Usual caveat: You probably want to read the previous parts of the series to get the full impact, but the summary is: An alternate timeline where You, the reader, your beloved Vergil, and his eight year old son Nero live in the Devil May Cry business, alongside Vergil's loving and annoying little brother.
> 
> While this is technically for Dadgil week, it doesn't have much in the first chapter, I apologise.

_Jeesh, _Dante thought as he hung up his coat near the door. _I've dealt with less tension than when Vergil caught me spending eight thousand on that coat. _ He could feel something going on, his first inkling was that his nephew didn't run up to greet him, like he usually did.

He checked in the living room, where Nero usually would be playing with his toys, or reading one of his books, but no dice. He wasn't in the kitchen grabbing a snack, (although Dante didn't let that stop him from grabbing a dill pickle from the jar), and he wasn't in his bedroom. It took a few minutes, but he finally found the kid in his father's study.... doing homework. _Okay, something was definitely wrong._ Nero might be as bright as a button like his dad, but he really inherited his uncle's complete disinterest in doing any schoolwork out of school. His father was constantly badgering Nero to just get the work done, and he then could play. But Vergil was gone on a job, and would not be home for several hours yet. And you, while you encouraged Nero to finish his homework before supper, never forced the issue, as long as it was done before bed.

You were sitting nearby on the couch, frowning at your laptop. Odds are you were doing that business stuff for the bookstore, but the fact you didn't even notice him stride into the room, that meant you were heavily invested in whatever you looking at.

Only at the last second did you notice his approach, jerked and slammed the laptop down, far too quickly. That was puzzling.

“Oh, Dante!” You smiled, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. “Didn't expect you home so soon!”

“Easy there sunshine,” Dante responded, deciding not to pry. After all, it could be that you were ordering some steamy literature for your store or something. “You do know that it's almost five-thirty, right? Didn't expect you to be still doing work at this time....and definitely not the kid either,” he ruffled Nero's hair. His nephew also was in his own little world, doing some multiplication questions in a workbook, and flinched at his uncle's friendly touch.

“That late already? I really ought to start up supper then...any suggestions, you two? And no” you gave a pointed glance at Dante, “not pizza”

He gave a fake grumpy _hmmph_, and crossed his arms as if he was an overgrown four year old, when Nero timidly said “I...I like that pasta dish you make, the one with the peppers and the shrimp and the creamy sauce and the Tortoise noodles”

“Tortellini, Nero” you corrected, “and unfortunately I don't have shrimp, but I've got some chicken breast thawed out, we can use that, and you can tell me which type you prefer.”

The kid brightened at that and nodded his head enthusiastically, “Yeah!”

You patted his shoulder, and picking up your laptop, left the room to make the dish. While Vergil was a great cook, the past several months since you arrived had introduced both Dante and Nero to a cornucopia of new dishes, some cheap as chips, others more extravagant. The price to pay for such a delightful bounty for both nephew and uncle? Washing dishes. Dante swore that when Vergil cooked, or helped you cook, he would use as many dishes as possible.

Inwardly groaning, he felt a tug on his shirt. Looking down, he saw his nephew, still sitting in the desk chair, pen in hand.  
“Uncle Dante” he said, hesitatingly, “Do you like her?” This was an odd question, even for the ever inquisitive Nero.

“Sunshine? Of course I do. I mean, I like her as a friend, not like your dad likes her.” he clarified, feeling a bit warm. “Why, do you like her? I know she loves you.”

It was Nero's turn to blush, “Yeah, I do... It's just...” he paused, trying to figure out how to put his feelings into words, “Her apartment is almost ready for her to go back to, and I was wondering if she... she was...”

“Well, why don't you ask her?” Dante responded, slapping his nephew on his back, a bit too roughly, as Nero nearly fell out of his chair. “I wouldn't mind her staying, and I'm pretty sure your dad would love her to stay,” _To keep her safe, _ Dante thought, but didn't say. Ever since you came back to Devil May Cry from the hospital, Vergil had been....diligent.... in accompanying you anytime you left the business. And even when he wasn't available, he'd have Dante accompany you, with the added threat that should a hair on your head be harmed, blood or not, his brother would pay the price. You'd rolled your eyes, and had gritted your teeth at his over protectiveness, but because as much as you were annoyed about it, even happy go lucky Dante knew the price if the defenses slipped. They'd almost failed once, Vergil intended them not to slip again.

At least, some compromises had been made. Vergil, with the help of a witch's coven, had put up anti-demonic wards around the bookstore, the park, Nero's school. Anywhere you or Nero could expect to be left alone for a period of time. Dante's place was already covered in the damned things, and he half expected Vergil to plaster your apartment with more wards than Dante had stab wounds. That is...if you went back to your place.

On Dante's suggestion, Vergil was also training you in self defense. It wouldn't always save you, if another demonic attack happened, but it would buy you enough time to escape, or allow him to save you. There would be no repeats of last time. To show you his sincerity, he'd given you Beowulf, since you seemed to be proficient enough in fisticuffs (from your younger days, when you'd had to fight bullies, you'd confided in Dante one time), and had himself or Dante training you on nearly a daily basis. You were still no where near as deadly as the brothers, but you showed promise. Although, when Vergil sparred with you, Dante made sure to give you two a wide berth, as your fights could lead to some....intimate situations.

Another tug of his sleeve brought him out of his thoughts.

“Uncle Dante?” Nero asked, and he steeled himself for another uncomfortable question, “what's seven times three?”

_Math_ he thought, _My least favourite subject._ Perhaps uncomfortable personal questions would have been better.

*****

Dinner was a delicious fare, as per usual, with both Dante and Nero fighting over on who got seconds first. There was still a bit left over for Vergil, for when he finally showed up. The final consensus was a draw. Nero liked the chicken version, and while it was good, Dante preferred the shrimp. But seeing as shrimp was a bit on the expensive side, chicken was an excellent substitute. Strangely enough, the tension he felt earlier was even more intense, as he caught you looking over at your phone, sitting just out of reach on the counter, as Nero took the dishes to the kitchen for the dreaded washing.

“Expecting a call?” he joked, only to immediately regret it by the look on your face.

“Vergil almost always calls to tell me approximately when he'll be back, when he's out late on a job, but he usually calls around five. It's been almost two hours...”

“Well, you know, it might be a busy job,” he offered, despite knowing that this was totally out of character for his anal-retentive brother. What Dante had learned in the past eight years was that Vergil was happiest when everything happened according to schedule. Things like an infant Nero, with his irregular sleeping habits, put his twin on edge. Vergil, even when very busy, would have sent a text message or something. A cold feeling crept up the base of his skull. “Have you called him yet?” a stupid question, of course, but he had to ask the most basic questions first.

You sighed, not out of annoyance, but out of worry, “I did, and his phone went straight to voice mail. I left him a message, but nothing. I mean,” you said hopefully, “perhaps he's a bit busy, and doesn't want distractions, but I can't help but worry, he's not usually like this.” You were right, Vergil was predictable as Dante's pizza delivery order.

“Listen, I'll pull up his contacts, see if I can get a hold of him via the client. Might talk to to Morrison, too,if he got the job from him.”

“Oh would you, please?” you answered happily, although the joy sounded shallow. “Listen, I'll help Nero out with dishes tonight. And if he gets angry with you,” you added, “tell him I asked you to check up on him.”

Ordinarily, getting out of dish duty was a cause for celebration, but this evening, until he heard his brother ripping into him for disturbing him on a job, Dante couldn't feel elated.

He made his way to the antique desk, and opened up the drawer with client info. He had to admit, Verg's way of organizing the case files was leagues better than his old way (which was 'Toss them into a pile and let the Devil sort them out')

Referencing the dates, he found the file for young lady named Angela Salvador. Apparently, she'd inherited a block of townhouses near the industrial area from her elderly great-uncle, who dabbled in the dark arts, it was rumoured.

And of course, now that he wasn't keeping his end of the bargain with demonic forces, being dead and all, the demons decided to claim squatters rights on the premises. Ms. Salvador needed them 'evicted' in order to remodel them into minimalist lofts and probably sell at inflated prices to up and coming yuppies, you know, the usual start of gentrification. There was a contact number, scribbled hastily in Vergil's flawless handwriting, and so he punched in the number on the phone.

There wasn't even a ring tone. On the other end, all he could hear was the saccharine recording: _We're sorry, this number does not exist, please hang up and try again._

Dante's mouth went dry... Could it possibly been a mistake? No, Vergil was very exact. And he would have had to call the number to arrange payment and get info, so the number had to have existed a short while ago.

Okay, next step with Morrison. If there was ever a guy who knew the ins and outs about anything remotely demonic in this city, it was him. Maybe he passed the info to Vergil. At the very least, he would have heard about the job, seeing as that was what Devil May Cry paid him for.

A couple of rings “'Yello” he heard the whisky smooth voice on the other end.

“Hey Morrison, it's Dante..”

“Bit late for you to call, there Dante. I'm already on my second drink of the night.”

“It's not about a job, well” he furrowed his brow “it's not about a job for me. Vergil took a job from some lady named Angela Salvador, something about some abandoned townhouses in the south east district, near the old tire factory. You ever heard of any demon trouble over there?”

Dante could hear the faint sound of a lighter, and slow intake of breath, indicating that Morrison had lit up one of his ever present cigars.

“Can't say that I have... that whole area is owned by one of those damned bank equity places that bought out the factory. Odds are they're planning to level the place and renovate into hoity toity condos or somethin'” The puffing stopped “You okay there, Dante? Usually you'd be making a joke about that sort of thing”

“It's nothing,” Dante lied, his free palm pressed into his face “Just checking out some leads, sorry to bother you, go back to enjoying your night.”

“You too kiddo,” and with that, the line went dead. Dante's dinner, so delicious just an hour ago, threatened to escape the confines of his stomach. He stared at the piece of paper, reading the address of the supposed townhouses. As much as he didn't want to admit it.....

_Vergil had walked straight into a trap._

Best case scenario, he knew what he was getting into, and was springing the trap on purpose. But, as looked at the paper, he didn't see any indication that his elder brother had treated it any differently than a regular old job. Which meant...

_I gotta walk into the same damn trap._

While slowly putting the address and info into his jeans pocket, he looked to see the small portrait of his mother, still with her gentle smile at him. “Don't worry mom,” he murmured “I'll get him back in one piece.”

Picking up his guns, Rebellion, and his coat off the rack, he almost made it out the door, when he heard his nephew.

“Uncle Dante, where you going?”

“Just out to meet up with your dad, looks like he needs a little bit of help” It wasn't a lie, but man, did he feel like shit for saying it.

You came up from behind, dish towel still in hand. “Is everything alright?” You asked, looking concerned.

“Everything's gonna be fine, Sunshine, we'll be back here before you know it” he gave both you and Nero his trademark finger guns (that he totally did not feel), and crossed the threshold outside. Once outside, he let out a deep breath that he'd not realized he'd been holding in.

_Everything is going to be alright, you're going to find Vergil, drag him back home, and let Sunshine rip into him for making her worry about him. And then you're going to make fun of him for falling for such a stupid trap. Constantly. Until Nero goes to college or something._

But really, had their positions been reversed, would it have been really so different? A job like that sounded perfectly reasonable to Dante. Had it been him manning the desk today, he'd probably be trapped in some hellhole (he hoped it wasn't a literal hellhole) and Vergil would be saving him, admonishing him for doing something so stupid.

As he revved up his bike, he made a quick scan of the area. No demons within a decent radius, which was a relief. Besides, the wards would hold back everything. _It was going to be alright._ Taking one more look at the address on the file, he flew out like a bat out of hell.

****(

To his dismay, when he reached the address, he couldn't sense any demonic presence at all. That seemed odd. Both he and Vergil had been dodging demonic plots for nearly two decades. A bitter thought went through his mind. Had they moved him? But even then, there should be some residue, some slime that demons always left, like slugs after a rainstorm. But nothing....except...

_Yamato.._

There it was, laying on the sidewalk, and Dante's heart plummeted. There was some sort of humanoid creature next to it, unmoving, and as he approached cautiously (he had to resist every urge in his body to run up and take the weapon, it could be a trap.) he realized it wasn't a humanoid, but a human...well, what remained of a human. Think of what would happen if you took a human and shoved them in a beef jerky oven. For several days. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, some poor sod had tried to pick up Yamato, and well...Yamato was a clingy bitch. He'd only held her a brief moment during the fight with Arkham back in the day, and even then, she complained the whole time that he wasn't Vergil. Think what she would do to someone without Sparda's bloodline....

Just as he approached the weapon some sort of glowing knife attached to a chain launched out of the darkness, and had Dante been a second slower, it would have impaled his arm. Instead, it lodged into the brick wall behind him, followed by the sound of panicked swearing. The swearing got worse when he took Rebellion and cut the damn thing in half, causing the entire chain to shatter in a billion shards, as if it was under some sort of supernatural tension.

A voice called in the darkness “Binding has failed! I repeat: Binding has failed! Pull out and meet at rendezvous point!”

Oh hell no. This little game had gone quite far enough, thank you very much. Now Dante realized that it wasn't demons behind this at all. It was totally, 100 percent, organic, homo sapiens. Now it made sense why the ever wary Vergil had fallen for this. But why humans? To the best of his knowledge, neither him or his brother had any issues or fallings out with people. And it seemed far too organized, too planned to be some client who felt they'd been stiffed.

Didn't matter, Dante wanted answers, and more importantly:

_He wanted his brother back._

He triggered, and almost immediately, he felt his senses expand. Thank the Almighty that this was a deserted part of town, making it quite simple to tell where and who these assholes were. Five people. all human, and all well armed....and all in the same building together, half a block away. If he had Vergil's abilities, he's warp in and slice and dice 'em up like they were those paper snowflakes Nero made at school. But, he wasn't, so he'd have to do it the old fashioned way. A burst of super speed later, and he'd bashed in the already structurally weak foundation, and immediately switched to Royal Guard, blocking several dozen bullets that immediately came his way. The few that made it through stung like a bitch, but thanks to trigger mode, were shrugged off fairly easily.

Once they'd emptied their magazines, Dante took over the conversation. “Okay, I'll admit busting down the wall like that wasn't the most polite thing to do, but we have a liiiiiitle problem here. You guys have something,” he took his claws and pulled out a bullet embedded in his chest like it was an annoying splinter, “that doesn't belong to you. I'd reeeeeally appreciate it, if you'd return it....or hell” he spat out a bullet that had been lodged in his throat, “just tell me where it is. Then you can go on your merry way, and I'll pretend you guys didn't try to spearfish me.” His brother wouldn't have liked being referred to as a thing, but Dante wasn't in the mood for caring. Had he been Vergil, there would have never been this conversation, just a neatly stacked pile of severed body parts. But Dante always tried diplomacy first. Honey, Flies, Vinegar, you know, that sort of thing.

The response was the sound of guns being reloaded, and a horizontal hailstorm of bullets, but now easier to block, as they seemed aimed incorrectly, and was that the smell of human piss? Yup.

_Welp, time for Vergil's method._

Dante had never been eager to kill humans. Arkham was an exception, but to be fair, that piece of scum was barely human to begin with. So even now, with his brother's life on the line, Dante tried hard not think about what he was doing. Only when the last man fell, did Dante resume his natural form, and realize he was back to square one. Maybe a bit of torture might have helped him out, but even with the situation so dire, Dante was loathe to take that step. But now he had no witnesses, and the bodies, with their unfamiliar uniforms looked incredibly alien to him. He'd have to go home, research, call up contacts, and who the hell had time for that? Not Dante.

_But wait...Yamato._

She still lay there, guarded by the unfortunate sentinel, which gave him an idea. It was a crazy idea, one that probably wouldn't work. But, he wasn't going to go home to tell you and Nero that Vergil had been kidnapped. No, he was going to drag his brother home, and if he had to kill more people to do it? He gritted his teeth, and picked up the katana.

To say she was pissed was the understatement of the century, no the millennium. A sharp pain passed through his forearm for a brief second as she attempted to beef jerkify him, until she realized who he was, and then the pain subsided to a mere annoyance.

“Listen babe, I want to find Verg as much as you do, so... I need your help.” The pain turned into a questioning vibration. “You know where he is right? You can feel him? I need you to make me a portal to.. approximately where he is” the vibrating stopped. “I'll get him out of wherever he's stuck in, and give you two a happy reunion. Deal?”

Yamato remained silent for a few moments, and Dante feared she'd been ignoring him, when two sharp buzzes indicated her agreement.

Dante held up the sword, a pale mimicry of the elegance of his brother, and fingered the multicoloured sageo for good luck, and with two swipes, opened a portal up.

_Here goes nothing....._


	2. The Adonis of the Archives

_I suppose Dante would make a joke about me being in a 'bind'...._

Vergil had finally stopped struggling against the chains, the two cuffs biting into his wrists, anchoring him into the wall. It wasn't the pain that had been the issue, as he'd suffered through worse, it was the fact that the more he struggled, the weaker he felt, as if they absorbed his very life essence. It didn't help that he was constantly healing, so each movement ripped up his newly healed flesh, prolonging the agony. He'd never heard of any demonic or human technology that could do this, and part of him truly wanted to study it. But the logical part was much more insistent. He needed to find a way to get out of here, to get these chains removed.

Both parts were definitely over shadowed by his own critical side. How in the Nine Circles of Hell had he been so careless, so unobservant, so damned stupid? In hindsight, he should have known the entire job was set up. The cash up front, the simpleness of the job, the urgency the client implied, it all led to a trap, but he'd been too blind to see it. Hell, even the name of the client should have clued him in. But he hadn't thought about it until the damn chain had already pierced his torso, and he saw the approaching soldiers with that infernal sigil on their shoulders. He was certain that he'd taken out some of them, although it had cost him his consciousness, and worst of all, Yamato (although, the last memory he had of her brought him great joy, watching her desiccate that one fool who tried to grab her). He could only hope that they hadn't found other ways to control her, as the untold power that Yamato had could be devastating in the wrong hands. And, he thought bitterly, if these were the people he thought they were (and he was certain), it would only be a matter of time, and he could only guess the plans they had in store for it.

_The Order of the Sword_

He'd dismissed them as a group of fanatics back when he was in Fortuna, trying fruitlessly to understand his father's great power, revering him almost as a god. While he scoffed at their attempts, he understood that they were relentless, and if they happened to stumble on something, they'd eventually, like a million monkeys on a million typewriters, figure out how to unlock the power contained within. So he'd kept his distance, avoiding their attentions as he researched for the exact same thing as them. He'd studied when they'd be least likely to notice him, and had even made...sacrifices... for it.

So, the question was, did they capture him mainly for Yamato? Or for him? Neither option seemed palatable.

And to think, this could all have been avoided if he had just done his due diligence and looked at the job more critically. It wasn't like there was a need for money. He and Dante had enough jobs coming in that they didn't need to worry about bills, and could even splurge a bit. No, the reason he had taken this particular job was because:

A) No Morrison, hence no cut of the fee. (although Vergil grudgingly admitted, Morrison would have figured out that this was a trap)

B) It would be technically 'off the books', allowing him to keep the money for himself.

How long had he been surreptitiously placing a little bit of each of his earnings into a separate private account? At least seven months, just a little at a time, so no one would even notice. Not that Dante would have, the man being clueless about anything about numbers (aside from fractions, due to his pizza addiction), but his Evening Star...you'd catch on. And you were the last person he wanted to alert.

_With this one last job, he would have been able to make the down payment on that ring he wished to give to you._

He'd chosen the design (a delicate braid of white gold), the gems (sapphires and diamonds), even managed to get your size (thank goodness you slept like like the dead when he did so.) All that was left to do was transfer payment, and to choose the most opportune moment. And after what Nero had asked him a couple days ago, even a skeptic like Vergil felt as if the stars were aligning. And just in time too, his disappearances on these extra jobs were becoming noticeable, and his relationship with you had suffered as a result of it. You'd even cancelled his regular sparring/training matches with him for the past few days. Now he could make it up to you, and he was certain his Evening Star would understand his prolonged absences.

But now, due to his tunnel vision he found himself here, chained to a wall by supernatural chains that absorbed his very essence. _Where was here, anyways? _He thought, looking around. He seemed to be in what was once a large freezer, but which now, if the musty smell of decay indicated anything, was inactive for quite some time. A former meat packing place, perhaps? There had been one or two out of business buildings fitting that description in the area he had originally gone to, and even though he didn't know how much time had passed, he'd assumed that his captors wouldn't go too far to risk him waking up during transport. Well, wherever he was, and however long he'd been there, he'd find a way to break free, and get home.

_No doubt Dante will have a field day once he finds out about this debacle, I'll never hear the end of it._

Footsteps clunked outside the door, and muffled words were exchanged, before the heavy insulated door swung ponderously open, allowing a bit of fresh (although that was a subjective term) air to flow in. Along with the drift, came a vaguely familiar man, a bit hunchbacked, but dressed impeccably in High Rank Order uniform. His hand held a clipboard, and in the dim light, Vergil could make out several words, none of which made sense:  
  
**OPERATION MOUSETRAP**

“Ah good, it seems our guest is awake” he said cheerfully, although the sarcasm was so thick it could be used to ice a cake. “I hope your stay hasn't been too difficult”.

Vergil would not give him the pleasure of a reply, merely glaring at him defiantly.

“Ah, yes” his jailer adjusted his monocle, focusing on his papers, “our information indicated you were a man of few words” he smiled as Vergil inadvertently twitched at the thought that he had been profiled. “I suppose introductions are in order, as we have not met formally, I am Agnus, Lead Scientist of the Order of the Sword” he did an exaggerated bow, one that seemed to be more mocking than respectful, “and you are someone I am_ quite_ interested in.”

Vergil remained silent, hoping this fool would talk himself into revealing a way to escape. _Agnus..._ now that name held meaning to him. He was one of the rising stars in the Order nearly a decade ago, but a man full of himself, flamboyant, and who never shut up. Not very well liked, it was said, but the authorities couldn't deny his results, so now it looked like he was at the top.  
“To think,” he said, pacing back and forth, “we had an actual Son of the Savior on our very doorstep, and we let him get away without even a questioning” the scientist spat angrily “Had I been higher in the chain of command, think of all the new information we would have, but my 'superiors',” sarcasm got even thicker in his voice “deemed my reports of a half demon skulking through our Archives as merely the gossip of a few busybody lady scribes”

His mention of the highly restricted section of the Fortuna Library, as well as the Caretakers caused a chill to go down Vergil's spine, as if the long dormant freezer had suddenly been brought back to life. Agnus noticed.

“Ah, yes... you were quite the charmer with the ladies, if the rumours were true,” he chuckled, and flipped over a paper. “Let's see what they called you, the 'Cassanova of the Library', the 'Romeo of the Athenaeum', or my personal favourite... the 'White Haired Adonis of the Archives'. Quite the ladies' man, weren't you? Seducing half the staff for access to our most treasured artifacts?”

Oh, Vergil did not like where this conversation was going, not at all. Of course Fortuna, with its quaint social taboos would gossip about something like this.

The scientist picked up on his discomfort, and assured him. “Oh, do not worry, I'm not here to judge you, after all, let he who has not fathered a bastard cast the first stone, eh?” he grinned knowingly.

Now Vergil felt a blast of fear coursing through him. Perhaps this whole trap wasn't just for him.

“But,” Agnus continued, “unlike myself, you sired a bastard” _How he longed to claw out his eyes for even uttering that word_, “who is quite interesting! Not only did our Savior have two children with his demonic blood coursing through their veins, one of them produced another child.” he clapped his hand together with the pad in delight. “Of course my idiot colleagues at the time ignored the babe when it came to our attention, citing 'ethics', but now that I'm in charge, that will change.” He was getting far too worked up about this “to think, what research we could have on the boy, to find out how demonic capabilities are passed from one generation to the next! To see if we can manipulate demonic power to aid Fortuna! Or even conquer the world!”

_Oh joy, the man is completely insane. _Vergil kept his stony mask, but it was harder and harder to do so.

“Of course,” Agnus continued “he would also be a piece of leverage to keep his father in line, but mainly due to his youth, he could be very malleable”

_They don't have him yet, _Vergil thought, _Dante will keep him safe._

As if it were a Greek Tragedy, a soldier entered the cell, “Lord Agnus, it appears that the Target has been left undefended, Subject Vermilion has been spotted leaving the residence, heading to the original ambush site.”

His captor seemed delighted. “Excellent, send a squad in with a pair of Savior's Bindings to apprehend him, alive if possible.”

“Sir, we only have one binding left, the other was cut by the Devil Arm.”

“One should suffice. If the subject resists, you have my permission to terminate him, and attempt to retrieve the Devil Arm for research. Order the rest of the squads to get ready to head out for Mousetrap.”

“Yes sir!” a salute, and the soldier marched out briskly, Vergil could hear him repeat the orders as he went down the hall.

Agnus, an evil grin plastered on his face, gave yet another mocking bow to Vergil “Well, this has been a most enlightening conversation, but I'm afraid I must be on my way.” He turned, and began to leave, but Vergil couldn't just let him go, and began struggling against the chains, pain shooting up his arms, and already feeling weak from the effort.

“Touch a single hair on his head,” he hissed hatefully, “and I will gut you like a fish.”

To which, Angus paused, but didn't turn, only chuckled “Trust me, I want the boy unspoiled as well, killing him would be a waste.” And with that, the door slammed shut with a dull thunk, sealing him in near darkness. Vergil, ignoring the pain, strained against the chains, fought to break free, raged to save his son. Not only was his son in danger of being captured, he knew there was only one person left who was standing in the Order's way: his precious Evening Star. He knew you would give your life to protect his little boy. The thought of losing his son and you due to his own overconfidence was too much for him to bear. And so, against common sense, he fought against his restraints, hoping that he could break free.

But of course, all that did was weaken him, until he slipped back into unsettled unconsciousness.

_The bell clock chimes nine, as the last of the sun's rays illuminates the dark purple sky. Already the Evening Star had already appeared, as he made his way down the alley, towards a fairly nondescript door. He's done this dozens of times, and if tonight is fruitful enough, tonight should be his last one._

_Pausing to see if there's any onlookers, he knocks, two slow raps, followed by three rapid ones._

_One nervous moment later, the door opens, and after checking once more for spies, he walks in._

_As he removes his outsider's hood, he notices his host is not Scribe Jessica, as he was expecting, but a new scribe, a woman wearing a scarlet dress, and the head covering that indicates widowhood. Had he been deceived?_

“_Don't worry” she says, a small smile on her face as she removes her hood, releasing a cascade of brown hair, “your little arrangement with Lady Jessica is still in effect, but...” the smile turns into a knowing smirk “she owed me a favour, and I've heard so much about the mysterious handsome stranger who's willing to do __anything to get in our Archives. How could I resist,” she comes closer, much to close for his comfort, but he is already backed up against the wall. “such a tasty morsel?”_

“_This is not part of my agreement with her,” he attempts to regain control the situation, but this viper of a woman is relentless._

“_Of course, it's not” she croons “but the way I see it, you have limited options, if you wish to access the materials you need.” He turns to leave, but her words stop him “if you go out that door, I can assure you that you will never set foot in here again. To go back on your promise to Lady Jessica would be known among us all, and who would put their livelihood at risk to aid a man who doesn't fulfill his end of the deal?”_

_As much as he hates it, she's right. As of this moment, she has all the power, and he detests it so much. But tonight.... if he can get just a bit more research done tonight he won't have to do this anymore. And really, is an hour of so of his time really that much of a burden? Especially when the payoff will result in him never needing to do this again. No longer will people take advantage of his powerlessness._

“_Of course, for this inconvenience...” she says, bringing him back to the situation at hand, “I work both this midnight shift, as well as the following morning. For a little extra, I could be persuaded to allow you to stay the entire time.” her predatory smile reaches her brown eyes, as he considers her offer. She is not unattractive, only slightly older than him, and like many of the scribes, she's a widow, which means she has... experience. _

_And so, he strides towards her, with confidence he doesn't quite feel, and pushes her against the wall, but not with malice. Her smirk indicates she knows she's won, and she whispers into his ear, the sound causing shivers down his spine._

“_Don't worry sweetheart, you'll enjoy it as much as I will, I promise.”_

Vergil woke up groggily, to the sound of gunshots, confused orders and screams. As he came to, he began to recognize the twin sounds of Ebony and Ivory echoing through the building, coming closer.  
Dante's voice called out, “Vergil! Where the hell are you!?” and Vergil could have sworn he could hear a tinge of fear in that voice, so unlike his brother.

“Dante, I'm here, brother.” he tried to call out, but his voice was weak from exhaustion, and it felt like it never left the room.

What seemed like hours, but was probably a few tense minutes, there was a final scream of agony outside of his cell, and the freezer door was ripped off of its hinges.

“Dante...” he said weakly. His brother shouldn't be here....he needed to go back. How long had it been since he went unconscious? Had they already attacked? He tried to stand up, but the chains effects had drained him completely, and his legs gave out from him

“I gotcha Verg, I gotcha.” and he felt warm arms holding him up.  
“Don't... touch the chains..he said weakly, they're-”

“Yeah I know, and I know whatever they are, they're under a lot of tension, so.... I'm really sorry about this in advance...” Dante let him down, and pulling out Rebellion, and with two swift swipes, cut the chains, causing the exploding shrapnel to embed into his flesh for a brief moment, causing a sharp hiss of agony. Normally he would have at the very least have words for his irresponsible twin, but even if he had the energy to, he knew that he didn't have time to waste on less painful but slower solutions.

“We... we need to get back. Now. Nero's in... great danger. They're going after him”

Dante held him up for support. Vergil would have hated being seen by his brother like this, but he was just so, so tired. “Don't worry, we got the wards up and-”

“Those only work on demons you idiot....” he muttered, not even having the energy to put venom in it. “this is a totally human operation, the wards won't have an effect.”

His brother froze, and he could see his face pale in realization. “Well...shit”

Suddenly, he pressed Yamato in his into hands, the mere presence of her in his hands giving him some stability. “You can make us a portal to our place, right?” Dante asked.

“Not at the moment, I... don't...have the strength.” It was infuriating.... feeling so weak, unable to protect even himself. At least he could stand on his own two feet now.

Dante released him, and grabbed his phone, rapidly punching in numbers. “Pickupickupickup” he muttered, before his face broke into relief “Lady! You near my place? Oh thank God... look, I need you to go to my place, bring whatever weapons you got...” a pause “No, forget the anti-demon shit, you're going to be facing off against plain ole' humans, regular bullets will do..... No, I don't know how many, I just know they're after my nephew” Dante glanced up at him “He's okay, a bit winded, but we'll get back as soon as possible. I'll square out the payment later, okay?” he hung up, and looked back at Vergil. “You feeling better?”

He shakily held Yamato in his hands. “Not enough to portal that far, only a short distance”

“What about my bike? It's back where the job was supposed to be. If you can portal there, we can ride back. Not as fast as your method,” Dante sighed, “but better than nothing”

Vergil gripped Yamato, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I can do it...” Unsheathing the blade, he (clumsily in his opinion, but he really didn't have the energy to care) split the air in two quick strikes. He barely had waited for the portal to fully form before he was <strike>stumbling</strike> striding through it, Dante close behind.

He was hit by fresh, free air. He would have taken to savour it, but there was no time. There was never enough time. He felt his legs buckle, and the pavement rushed up to meet him. But then, at the very last moment, his brothers strong arms wrapped around him to stop his fall.  
“Come on Verg, we gotta get back home.” and as he staggered back to his feet, he let his brother support him to his bike No time for pride, there was too much at stake. As his younger twin steadied him on the passenger seat, he spoke.

“Dante... drive fast.”

And with a screech of protesting tires, the bike took off, and Vergil prayed to whatever Deity was out there, that they would make it on time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title (and line included the story), is thanks to LordMuzzmuzz, who even though he has no idea what Devil May Cry is, helpfully suggested that addition.
> 
> According to the Novel, Nero believes that he's the son of a prostitute. So in my headcanon, in order to access the most restricted information about his father, he'd had to bribe the Caretakers. And being a handsome broke nineteen year old, he had to exchange 'favours' for it. Of course, there's darker connotations about it, but it does play into his fact that he just assumes people will always find a way to get something out of him. The Reader was one of the few people who willingly just gave him something precious (his son) with no strings attached. And it makes VERGIL the prostitute.


	3. The Problems Multiply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Long emotional chapter incoming! But worry not, no angsty cliffhanger like last time.... even thought there's gonna be some angst.

There wasn't much light on the horizon when Nero finally finished his math homework. Why did multiplication have to be so annoying? It should be easy. After all, it was just adding the same number a bunch of times, just like his dad did when he was doing the money thing. And he liked helping his dad with that, so why was this so much more boooooring? Mr. Latimer had told him that doing these exercises would help him remember his times tables, but Nero continued thinking in terms of adding. _Three plus three plus three plus three equals twelve! _Why did he have to learn a whole different way of doing it? It was, in his dad's words....aggravating. But even if he hated doing it, he'd rather be doing a hundred, no a thousand multiplication problems than going to do what he was about to. His dad had told him to stop putting it off, and it wouldn't turn out as bad as he thought, but still...

_What if she says no?_

Slowly, he put his homework back in his bag, tidied up the desk (his dad hated when he left it a mess), and pattered down the stairs. As he got to the bottom, the faint sound of fists hitting plastic could be heard from one of the side rooms, the room usually dedicated to fighting. The door to it was closed, indicating it was in use, and he paused, while his brain and emotions were conflicted.

_It's gonna be a silly question_

_She's going to be annoyed you interrupted_

_You've noticed that she's been kinda distant, even with dad the past few days? _

_Maybe she doesn't want to stay..._

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, the _fwips _stopped, and he heard your voice, a bit out of breath, “Come in!”

He slowly opened the door, and slipped inside. Rule of thumb for the household. Always knock before entering the training room. With his dad and uncle waving their swords around, doing those flashy moves, (sometimes by themselves, sometimes with each other) it would be a bad idea to walk in unannounced, if the last time Uncle Dante did that when you and dad were sparring was any indication. (It must have been painful, because his uncle was screaming about his eyes, and told his nephew to NEVER, EVER enter the room when you two were practicing)

The room was empty, aside from you. Nero frowned. He expected his dad to be home by now, or his uncle, but they still weren't. He had wanted at least one of them home so he could show off his math homework. At the rate he was going, his father said he would surpass Dante in math knowledge, which got his pretty steamed when he heard that.

You were using a towel to wipe your forehead, and it looked like you had been practicing with Beowulf on an unfortunate looking plastic dummy. At least that dummy was surviving, even Nero could shred one of them with a few days of lessons of sword work with his dad. Dante had suggested that he could start practicing with guns, but his father expressively forbade it.

“_He does not need training in that barbaric method, his skill with a sword will suffice. I have lived without needing them, so can he.”  
_

_“Yeah, but you have those summoned swords, that's the sa-”_

“_That is NOTHING like your guns”_

“_Suuuuuure there, brother, you keep telling yourself that”_

“Are you alright, Nero? Do you need help with your homework?” Your voice brought him out of his reminiscing, and he attempted to format his thoughts. This was harder than he thought. Maybe that's why his dad didn't speak as much as Nero and his uncle.

“N-no,” He stuttered “I g-got it all done”

“That's great!” you seemed oblivious at his nervousness at first. You retracted the Beowulf gauntlets, allowing yourself to drink deeply from the water bottle, but mid quaff, you noticed him shuffling nervously. Setting the bottle down, you leaned against the battered dummy. “Nero, are you sure? You've been quiet the past few days.”

_Oh great, she noticed._ _Well, let's just get it over with..._

“Dad says your apartment is almost all fixed, and that you... you would be moving back.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Ah yes,” you nodded watching him intently. There was no way you didn't think something was up.  
He continued on. “I-I was.... wondering if you wanted to move back to your place, or if you wanted to stay here, you know, with us?”

Your eyes widened as he finally blurted it out. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign, so he decided to continue. “Uncle Dante likes you staying here, he says it's nice to have someone to joke with and talk to. Dad...dad REALLY likes you here, he's a lot less serious when you're around, and he's happier too. He was so scared when that snake demon hurt you, even though he'd never say it, I could tell. He wasn't eating or sleeping until you woke up. So I think he would like you to stay, you know, to keep you safe.”

“And what,” you queried, “do you feel about me staying?”

He hung his head, his toes becoming very interesting to him. “I feel... I want you to keep living here. You're nice, kind... and well, you're like a mom to me.” He heard you gasp, but he couldn't bring himself to look up to see what it meant. “Dad said you saved me when I was little, and that my real mom... well he doesn't know why she didn't want me.” (his dad never put it that way, but Nero was smart, he could tell what he meant, and how angry it made his dad to think that his mom never wanted him) “But he said I got to do something not many kids get to do, I get to pick who my mom was. He did say I had to ask for permission first. So,” he kept looking down, refusing to look up to see your reaction, “I want to ask, do you want to be my mom?”

For a brief couple of moments, there was stunned silence, he kept his eyes down, not wanting to risk that you'd laugh at him, or worse, get angry and refuse.

_This was a stupid idea. She likes my dad, that's true, but I'm not her real kid, there's no way-_

He felt delicate fingers grasp his chin, gently yet firmly force his face up to look at you. Your eyes were wet, and his heart sank. But wait, you were smiling. You weren't crying because you were sad.... you were crying because you were... happy? He'd seen some movies where old ladies did that at their daughter's wedding, but he'd never seen anyone actually cry because they were overjoyed in real life. His dad was right, people and their feelings were weird.

“Oh Nero,” you said, and your hand left his chin, only to be placed on his shoulders, and without warning, you pulled him in for an embrace. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” you sniffled, “when I first saw you all those long years ago, when you were left with us at the orphanage, all I wanted to do was adopt you. But,” you lamented, “they wouldn't let me because I wasn't married. When I met your father, I did the hardest thing I've ever done, and let him take you with him to be with your real family. Finding both of you again, after all these years was the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“So.... that's a 'yes'? You want to be my mom?” he asked hopefully. His dad and Uncle Dante were great to live with, but sometimes he would watch a mother and her daughter at the park laughing, or a son and his mom at the grocery store, talking about his school day, and he wished he could experience it. Sure, he was lucky in that he had a dad and an uncle, both who loved him a tonne, but he always felt like there was a piece that was missing. And now, that hole in his heart was being filled.

“Of course, Nero! I'd be honoured to be to be your mother!” And to his astonishment, you were able to hug him even more tightly. He felt so warm, so safe. “I've dreamed of this moment since I first held you in your little black blanket” you murmured softly as you kissed the top of his head. Nero couldn't quite process how he felt right now, but he let himself be held, and slowly, he smiled. Strange.... he kinda felt like crying too.

But even as you held him, a part of his brain, the part his dad had trained him to always be alert, always be vigilant, started bugging him. As much as he wanted to remain there in your arms, something caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Using the technique he had been learning from his dad, he closed his eyes, went stock still, and held his breath.

“Nero?” you questioned. He kept forgetting that you didn't have those special powers, and that's why his dad was always worried about you.

“There...there's a lot of people outside. I can feel them. A bunch of....” he went still again as you slowly let him go “humans. That makes no sense, it's way too late for so many people to be out here.” You completely let him go, and grabbed one of his uncle's many guns. He wasn't sure why, but he had a bad feeling about all those people. Especially since both his dad and uncle were gone out, and this neighbourhood was mostly industrial storage buildings. No body aside from people going to their night work shifts should be around. He went to leave the room to check it out, when the sound of crashing glass shattered the serenity, and he leapt backwards a bit.

“Operation Mousetrap has commenced! Gogogogo!” a voice yelled out, and he saw several shadowed figures climbed in through the shattered window. He felt your hand on his shoulder, yanking him back, and an order, made in a voice he could hardly imagine.

“NERO, COVER YOUR EARS!”, and as he did so, a flash of a muzzle, and a trio of ear shattering bangs rang out, and the shadows outside the room fell. You pulled him further into the room with one hand, reloading the gun with the other. _Not fair, why does Dante get to teach her about guns and not me?_

“What's happening?” he asked, completely confused. Why were these people attacking the office? They weren't demons. This made no sense. And where was his dad and uncle? Did they wait until they were both gone to attack? You pressed yourself against the wall next to the door frame, and quickly took a peek. One of the figures was still alive, gasping wetly as he attempted to speak into his radio.

“Lord Agnus... we're meeting resistance,” A wet cough, “It appears the target is protected...looks to be a human, female. Permission to use lethal force?”

His radio crackled to life, “Permission denied, we must capture the target alive.” The voice was raspy, and had an unsettling quality to it. “Use all non-lethal methods to flush them out, we can take out the female once we have the target in custody”

The soldier seemed to grumble something about the 'damned chain of command' and after a soft clink and muttered counting, a metal canister clattered into the room, with an insidious hiss. A sickly yellow gas spewed out, and Nero didn't need to be a genius to know that it was bad news.

“Cover your face with your shirt, Nero!” He heard you call out to him, and he did so, already trying to cough out the gas that was threatening to envelope him. Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted up, and carried. He panicked for a moment, thinking it was one of the attackers, but even above the smell of the gas, he could smell faint traces of the perfume that you always liked to wear. You ran carrying him out, and he winced as another shot rang out, silencing that last remaining soldier. You ran up the stairs with him, to the second floor, where the gas would not reach, before letting him down. “Quickly, get to your room. We'll hide out there.” You ordered, following him down the hallway. Heavy boots could be heard behind them, quickly ascending the stairs.

Reaching his bedroom, Nero ran to the far side of the room while you positioned yourself at the threshold, shooting down anyone who entered the hallway, reloading when necessary. Uncle Dante had trained you well, with nearly every bullet finding a target. But eventually even after over half a dozen kills, your gun _clicked,_ signifying that you were out of ammo. And there were still more coming from downstairs...

“Nero,” you said, and your voice sounded brittle, “I'm going to keep them back... I need you to stay here, keep the door locked, and try to put some furniture in front of it. Don't open the door to anyone unless you know them. If the worst happens,” your hand went to your stomach, as if you were going to get sick, “you need to climb out the window, shimmy down the eaves trough. Don't look back... run to Aunt Lady's place, you'll be safe there. You understand?”

“Mom...” he tried to say something else, but he felt you grab him into another tight hug, and a quick kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you so, so, much” and before he could react, you'd pushed him back, and shut the door, letting it lock behind you. It was so quick, all he could do was pound on the wood, trying to call you back.

“MOM!” he cried. Bending down, he managed to look through the keyhole, to watch what was about to happen.

With a audible thick _Kachunk,_ Beowulf encased your fists and feet as you strode forward to meet the threat, which consisted a foursome of soldiers, all wearing dark camouflage, but with some weird insignia on the shoulders. Breaking into a run, and then a sprint, you launched yourself into one of the men, who had just gotten up the stairs, and with demonically charged fist, you punched him in his chest, knocking him and the man behind him down the stairs into what was probably a bloody pile. Another man attempted to strike while you were distracted, but your training with his dad had paid off, and without even looking your right leg shot out into a roundhouse kick, hitting his left leg with a wet sick _crunch_ which dropped him into a screaming heap. You followed it up with your foot stomping on his windpipe, which silenced him immediately. Nero had always been told by his uncle that hurting humans was not a good thing, even if they were being mean, but this.... this seemed like a good excuse. Besides, his dad and uncle fought demons because they were part demon, so it made sense that you were fighting humans, being a human yourself.

The fourth man, having a bit more time to assess the situation, tried to play it safe, by backing up a bit, getting into an attack stance. You paused, but only for a moment, and then Beowulf began to glow with light. The soldier attacked, first with with a left hook, which you blocked and responded with a left undercut, snapping him on the chin. He stumbled back, and then charged forward with a growl, which you dodged, before grabbing him and kneeing him in the groin. (even Nero kinda winced at that. He could imagine his dad looking disapprovingly on, saying it 'was not honourable', but he would probably make an exception for this scenario) While incapacitated, you grabbed the back of his shirt, and threw him over the railing, where he landed on the first floor with a crunch.

_You were doing great! Maybe... mom... could pull this off!_

“Well, this..” a voice called out, from the stairs and you shifted your position as a man skulked up the stairs, “is interesting. A mere human, using a devil's arm. I was under the impression that it took demonic blood to wield such powerful artifacts, although perhaps, I should reassess my theories.” He smiled at you, but even an eight year old Nero knew that it was just a mask. This man was dangerous.

You also saw through it, and spat “The Order....What are you doing here? Why don't you cut your losses, and leave and scuttle back to your island?”

“My dear,” he responded oily, “you of all people should know the value of what you have in your possession” Nero had a bad feeling that he wasn't talking about Beowulf. 

“Take a step further...” your voice lowered dramatically, taking on a dangerous quality that he'd never ever heard from you. You were light and sweet with him and his family, but now, when under attack, you were as deadly as his dad, “And you will regret it”

“Tsk Tsk,” the man wasn't impressed. “Whatever is it with you people and threats that you cannot back up? First his father, now you...”

Nero barely suppressed a gasp _He saw dad? Where is he?_ If you had the same thoughts, you kept them hidden and you adjusted your stance. (a bit of a defensive stance, which seemed odd to him... Uncle Dante said best defense was a good offense, which after a while of thinking about it, made sense).

The man took his chance, and pulled out a wicked looking rapier, and thrust it at your midsection, which you dodged, a bit too much, causing you to stumble, just a tiny bit, but it was enough to give him an opportunity to kick your leg, causing you to fall to the floor. He took this opportunity and passed you by heading straight towards the bedroom door. Nero should have moved back, to push the dresser in front of the door, to open the window, but he couldn't, he was terrified.

Fortunately, you weren't down for the count just yet, and you launched yourself up, fueled by rage. “YOU WILL NOT TOUCH MY SON!” and your fist connected with his temple, knocking off his monocle, which hit the wall, shattering into a thousand crystalline shards. You didn't get a chance for a second blow, because it was apparently a valued possession of the ass hole (his dad would have lectured him for using that word as well, but frankly, Nero didn't care.) and he blocked your kick with a snarl.

“You little bitch!” he caught your foot mid kick, and gripping it firmly, twisted your ankle until you fell to the floor with a pained cry. “You claim him as your own, but he is not yours.... he will _never_ be yours.” he slowly approached you, rapier drawn, apparently taking his time to choose where to strike as you slowly tried to pull away, grunting in pain.

_Nononononono! It can't end like this! I finally got a mom, and now... she's going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it! It's just like what Uncle Dante said about Grandma! It's not fair...._

_  
Not fair!_

_ **Not fair!** _

_ **NOT FAIR!** _

Rage filled his body, as if he was on fire, pain, similar to when he broke his bone in the playground all that time ago, enveloped his arm, and his right hand balled into a fist, nails digging into his palm, drawing blood. Why did he have to be so weak, so powerless? Unable to even protect the person who first protected him?

Without thinking, he pounded his fist into the door, and barely felt any pain as the door splintered into millions of toothpicks as he charged through with a demonic screech.  
  


“**GET AWAY FROM MY MOM!”**

The man barely had time to turn when Nero barreled into him, headbutting him in the stomach, his right hand grabbing the blade, demolishing it, metallic shards showering the hallway.

_No...not a hand.... a claw._

The man fell down to the ground, clutching his gut as he gasped out, a trickle of blood streaming from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were transfixed on what Nero's entire arm had turned into. Scales of royal red had replaced his skin, and along it, like the veins that the anatomical model in his classroom, a seam of brilliant blue pulsed rapidly, ending at his fingertips, now crystalline claws, the same hue as the veins. It was amazing, it was entrancing it was...

“_Facinating_....” the man, still staring at it, “Such a display of demonic power... of the Savior's power. Fortuna could use that power to do great things... I just want to study...” stupidly, he attempted to grab Nero's arm, and the simmering rage reignited, and with another shout, his claws went out, slashing the man's face. The sound of his agonized howls seemed to feed into something within himself, something that demanded more.

_Make him bleed_

_Slice his belly and rip out his entrails_

_Make him fear you_

_Get him to submit_

_Show him the true meaning of terror as you shed the life out of him_

_It would be so easy... so easy to just devour this man...no... this insect. Just like those bugs that were pinned into a display in one of your books. The sound of his screams would sound so sweet, so...delicious_   
  


“Nero...” a gentle voice brought him back from the brink, and he turned around to face you, slowly attempting to sit up, a slight grimace of pain on your face. “It's over...” Did you know what was going though his mind? Did you know how much he wanted to make that man feel ten times the pain (_hey, maybe multiplication could come in handy!)_ he felt right now? “Come back to me. You're safe...”

Sluggishly, he began to walk back to you, to see if you were okay, but then he saw your eyes widen and look past him as your mouth began to form the words to warn him.

Immediately, he spun around to come face to face with the bastard (another word his father would disapprove of), face drenched in blood, attempting to grab Nero again. With a bit less rage, but no less strength, he grabbed the blood soaked man, and pushed him back. Hard enough that he slipped backwards, and crashed through the already weakened banister, falling down to the hardwood ground floor, with a satisfying crunch. For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence... of peace.

And then shots rang out outside, and the squeal of tires. Orders to attack could be heard just outside the front door, before being abruptly cut off into screams, which then cut off into silence. Nero could hear the distinct sound sound of Ebony and Ivory shooting, and the sound of explosives, which could only mean Aunt Lady was here too. But where was his dad? The man had said something about him making threats, and his father wouldn't let anyone try to hurt Nero, not unless...no, nothing could hurt his dad, not even his uncle (although Uncle Dante had told him stories about how he beat him one time in the Underworld, Nero wouldn't believe him.) But where could he be?

The man groaned and attempted to move, but the way his leg was bent, it didn't look like he'd be getting anywhere. Some part of him wanted to leap down, and rip the monster's throat out, but your presence behind him as you slowly got up kept him grounded and stable.

A blast of demonic energy blasted outward, launching anything not nailed down flying in all directions. Above the injured man, a flash of blue materialized, before coalescing into the form iridescent scaly demon. Shark like teeth formed a terrifying grin and intense blazing blue eyes marked it out as some of the few things that marked it as humanoid. The scales, the metallic horns, the claws made it look like a terrifying mockery of an insect...but there was something familiar at how it held its weapon, a katana.

“DAD!

He clung to the broken banister, and watched in amazement as the demon's form melted away, leaving behind his father. A tired, disheveled, blood splattered version of his dad, but it was unmistakable. He'd never seen his father's Devil Trigger form before, seeing as he only used it when fighting, and Nero never ever got to get near a fight (although he had very faint memories, from five years ago, of a similar looking blue scaled demon)

His dad acknowledged him with a subtle not of his head, but kept his eyes on the prone figure below him, the tip of Yamato grazing his breastbone.

“I warned you Agnus, and you ignored it” his voice, a bit more gravely than usual, with an undercurrent of restrained wrath “so now you will face first hand a Son of Sparda's vengeance”

“I-” was all the man could blurt out before the elegant blade slammed down, impaling him precisely through the heart. The unmistakable scent of blood assaulted his nose, but he ignored it as he jumped down from the broken banister, (he didn't care if his dad got mad, Uncle Dante did it all the time, and he didn't get in trouble) and ignoring the surrounding carnage, launched himself at the blue clad figure.

“Dad!” he cried out, and hugged his father, almost surprised at how hard the embrace was reciprocated. Also surprising was the trembling, almost imperceptible to anyone other than Nero, that his dad was trying to contain.

“You are unharmed?” His dad's voice was muffled against his shoulder, and he could feel warm wetness on his shoulder. That was weird.

“Yeah, I'm fine...I think...” he pulled back a bit, as he raised his transformed arm to show his father.

“What is that?” your voice floated down, as you gingerly made your way down the stairs, trying to walk around the bodies.

“I believe,” his dad said, holding his arm, studying it intently, “this is beginning of a Devil Trigger transformation. A bit premature, so it's only a partial one, but it seems powerful enough, especially for someone as young as Nero.” unlike the man that was a corpse laying next to them, there's no dangerous glee in his dad's eyes, just intense interest, and pride? “A Devil Trigger's first activation is usually provoked by a strong emotional stimulus, such as when I...” he trailed off, brows furrowed.

“Or when your dad stabbed me with my own damn sword” Uncle Dante's voice came from the doorway, as he and Lady surveyed the damage. “Aww man, this is gonna cost a fortune to repair.” He ran over to the jukebox “Come on baby, don't die on me again...” and was overjoyed when it came to life, playing a subdued jazz tune.

Lady rolled her eyes at his antics. “Looks like we got here in the nick of time. I'm 99% sure we cleaned them out, although I'll keep an ear to the ground, see if any stragglers slipped through. That anti-demonic tech is quite something, although, fat lot of good it did them this time.”

Leaning against the askew pool table, Uncle Dante took a gander at his nephew's arm. “Your dad's right, you gotta feel something really intense to channel your inner demon.”

“He was going to hurt mom!” Nero blurted out, close to tears. “I couldn't let him hurt her...I just wanted to be strong enough to protect her.”

“Your.... mother?” Vergil asked him slowly, while looking up at you.

“He asked me if I wanted to be his mother,” you clarified quickly, “and of course I said yes....and then...” you waved your arm around, showing off the damage. “well, you know the rest of the story. I think I mana-” you were cut off by an intense kiss from his dad... Yuck. Why he had to do that in front of Nero made no sense. Nero wouldn't be caught dead kissing a girl, no matter how close of friends they were with him.

“Thank you,” his dad said softly, and you smiled....at least until you took a glance at the body laying in the middle of the room, and your face rapidly changed from a soft blush, to a soft shade of green. “Excuse me...” and you ran off into the direction of of the bathroom. That was weird, you'd seen Uncle Dante covered head to toe in demon guts, and you'd never had that reaction. But maybe it was because they were human?

“So, Dante,” Lady said... “Looks like you and I are on cleanup duty.”

Vergil protested, “I should help,” but she interrupted.

“Not this time, Blue, you look like you've been through hell, and I'm thinking your family needs you more than I need an extra set of hands. Besides,” she said, attempting to deflect any accusations of being sappy, “these guys look like they got a bunch of tech that could be pretty useful. You help me clean them out, Dante, and I'll consider this little rescue operation paid in full.”

“But why me!?” he lamented, sounding like an annoying little kid, “I just saved everyone's bacon, so why am I on clean-up duty?”

“Dante,” his dad said, with uncharacteristic gentleness, especially for his twin “Thank you, for... everything”

His dad might have well told Dante that he was buying him ice cream sundaes for the rest of his life, if the way his uncle reacted, his eyes wide open in shock. “Did-did you just hear that Lady? Or am hallucinating? Did Verg just thank me, and not a hint of sarcasm?”

“Pick up your jaw, hero,” Lady punched him in the arm, attempting to get his attention, “and pick up all the garbage bins you have in the house, I'll make a few phone calls, see if any of my contacts can help with... disposal. And you two..” she ordered goodnaturedly, as Dante (with a stupid grin on his face) went to the kitchen, “get yourselves and her to bed. It's been a hell of a day for you all.”

Nero felt his dad gently herd him towards the stairs, but he stopped him with a small tug on his sleeve.   
“Dad...” he kinda felt embarrassed to ask, but he didn't feel comfortable sleeping upstairs, all by himself tonight. “Can... can I sleep with you and mom tonight? I promise I won't move too much, and I'll be quiet-”

His father swept him up in his arms, and changed course, heading to the master bedroom, answering his request wordlessly. It was a nice feeling, to be held by his dad, protected and safe.

Along the way, they came across you, exiting the bathroom.

“Nero has requested to stay with us for the night...that won't be an issue, will it?” there was a brief half second where he thought you might decline, but your loving embrace of the two of them was enough of answer.

Hopping into the bed, Nero snuggled tightly between his new mom and dad. It was a weird feeling. Just a couple of years ago, his family had been his dad, uncle, and the occasional visit by his Auntie Lady, and he thought it was good enough. But now, surrounded by blankets and warmth of two rapidly drowsy adults, he now realized what he was missing. He glanced at his arm, still transformed, and idly wondered why it wasn't changing back... ah well, he could figure it out tomorrow. It wasn't glowing blue anymore, just a shade of yellow....(Amber! Just like in the Jurassic Park movie), and it acted like a nice relaxing nightlight. The kids at school would be soooo jealous.

And as he dozed off, he could his uncle and auntie bantered and argued about the cleanup.   
  


“_Hey Lady, I found this thing in the bathroom garbage, what the hell is it?”_

“_You idiot, don't hold it by that end, go wash your hands and....oh......well, shit.”_

Nero fell asleep before he could hear the rest of the conversation.


	4. A Poppyseed

Gentle light through the sheer curtains was the first thing to wake you that sunny late spring morning. The second thing was the exceptional warmth that was by your side. Vergil tended to run cool, almost absorbing heat from you like a sponge, but today you felt as if you were sleeping next to a hot water bottle, albeit a very fuzzy one.

The cause, snoring ever so quietly on his back, still in his daytime clothes, was Nero, his left arm behind his head, and his right laying on the pocket of his hoodie. Of course, it wasn't a hand anymore, it was a claw, pulsing with a warm yellow colour that contrasted with the red of the scales. Its appearance puzzled you, because from what you had heard from both Vergil and Dante, their trigger forms, while powerful, were only temporary. Shouldn't his be gone by now? You wanted to reach out, to feel the scales, but you restrained yourself. Nero was much less touch averse than his father, but it still didn't feel right to place hands on him while he was asleep, and secondly, you might wake him up, and after last night, he deserved as much sleep as he could get.

Besides, he wasn't the only one dozing off. Behind the eight year old, holding him gently around the waist was Vergil, with an uncharacteristic soft look on his face. You rarely saw him so peaceful, even after a glass of wine and a good book, or after a night of blissful passion. You hesitatingly reached out to touch his shoulder, and when he didn't respond, you gently, oh so gently grazed your hands up the column of his neck, and towards his cheek. Slowly, you cradled it in your hand, enjoying the coolness of his skin (it looked like the Sparda genes didn't include facial hair, if the smoothness indicated anything.) He breathed calmly and evenly, a far cry from the almost frantic (and yes, you knew him well enough now to know he'd been scared out of his wits last night, despite his calm demeanour) emotional state he was previously. You were surprised how quickly he fell asleep, considering how restless he was in bed, even on a regular night, much less a night with such ....excitement. Perhaps having his son close to him allowed him to sink into slumber so easily.

You slowly traced you hands along his cheekbones, past his temple, and into his unusually unruly hair. Usually, it was smooth and sleek, even in bed (another Sparda gene thing?) but this morning, it was was tangled, with strands going this way and that, and wait... were those tangles? That would not do, not for you, nor for for him, so you carefully teased his hair with your fingertips, attempting to straighten out any stragglers. After getting the tips straightened out, you worked closer to his scalp, occasionally letting your fingers massage his scalp, to keep him comfortable.

While undoing a particularly deviant snarl, his breathing changed, and you froze. His soft features hardened, and you expected a grimace or a scowl. You'd pushed your luck it seemed. Ah well, it was good while it lasted.

“Did I say you could stop?” he murmured, and instead of the frown you expected, his mouth formed that small adorable smile that first attracted you to him, all those long years ago. That mental image of his hooded form slowly rocking the newborn Nero still brought a smile to your face. How he must of felt, a young man, barely into adulthood, and yet, when his own flesh and blood was placed into his hands, he had instantly jumped to the call of fatherhood! You had known others <strike>like your own mother</strike> who hadn't half the determination to do what he had done. In a way, this child laying between you had brought two warring brothers together, where they were exponentially stronger (even if they still quarreled a lot, and occasionally skewered each other, though not in your presence), and brought you and this wonderful, brave, loving, man into your life (or had he brought you into his? Bah, semantics.) So, why you were so nervous these past few days?

His eyes opened, and the light reflected onto those piercing grey irises. Eyes that had seen both tragedy (every so often, he'd let something from his past slip, and slowly, piece by piece, you were seeing the blocks that made the man) and more recently, joy. And with any luck, more happiness.

“You're thinking far too hard for this early in the morning,” his voice disrupted your thoughts, his smile still soft, but with a humorous smirk to it.

“That should be my line,” you snarked back quietly, making sure not to wake (your son) Nero. The young boy's words last night, before everything went to hell, had made you so happy. You still had lingering doubts on whether the whole of last night had been one crazy dream, and you'd wake up on the office room's couch, laptop still in your lap with exercise info about your...condition.

But looking down at (your son), his glowing forearm made it obvious that it had been no dream.

“His arm” you said, “I thought you said it was a Devil Trigger form, don't they usually fade after a while?”

Watching his sleeping son (who seemed to take after his uncle rather than his father, when it came to sleeping soundly), Vergil's soft smile flattened into into a pursed frown, but only because he was thinking.

“I think it is due to the fact that it developed so early in his life, he may not have the means to control its presence, or like a puppy oversized ears, eventually his full Trigger form will 'catch up' to his arm.”

“Will it hurt him? You said something about how much energy it takes to maintain that form, and that you can't do it for long”

His eyebrows arched downwards and he focused intently on the yellow glow. “No, I think it won't. Even for myself, the form will dissipate when I no longer have the energy to maintain it. Either it's taking only a small portion of his energy, or none at all. Of course,” he said, stroking the boy's head, (Nero still didn't stir) “I will have have to consult whatever information I can to make sure he will not be harmed by this. His well-being is my primary concern.”

“Speaking of well-being” you said, continuing to carefully untangle his hair, “how are you feeling? With all that happened last nigh, I never got a chance to ask you....” you paused “I'm going to assume your absence last night was connected to the attack”

“I was,” he started speaking, before cutting himself off for a brief moment, as if speaking the word hurt him “detained. The Order,” another painful pause, “managed to outwit me, and took me prisoner, in order to get to Nero.” To admit such a thing, what he considered a 'failure' (although you didn't think it was, no one was perfect) you knew to be one of the hardest things he could do, and using your detangling hand, you pulled him closer to you and kissed his forehead. Nero stirred slightly between you, but then went back to his adorable snoring. He then pulled your head down, and reciprocated the kiss, lingering for bit.

“This will not happen again. I swear it to you,” you felt, rather than heard his lips on your brow, and you closed your eyes momentarily in pleasure. You could never hold him to that oath, as the future was an uncertain and fickle mistress, but the fact that he valued you so much to make it made you feel so loved.

As you pulled away, you grinned at him, “Well first things first, no more going off on jobs without letting at least one of us know the details. If it means we have to keep more detailed records, so be it, dealing with Dante's kvetching will be the hardest part.” You cocked your head sideways, or at least gave the impression that you did, lying sideways on a bed “Exactly why were you taking this under the table job anyways? Is Morrison taking too much of a cut?”

To your amazement, Vergil, stoic, calm, disciplined Vergil.... blushed? No, it had to be a trick of early morning light. “It appeared...” he started slowly, choosing his words carefully “and the job seemed simple enough, as well as the pay being quite substantial. Cash up front, of course, which led me to forget the 'too good to be true' saying.”

“Well, I hope you've learned your lesson,” you said, slowly getting up and stretching, before pressing him back down on the bed when he mirrored your actions “I'm going to get up, make a phone call to his school to let them know he won't be coming in today. You should just rest.” Putting on a bathrobe over your your pajamas, you began to leave the room, before stopping at the door, “would you like a tea?”

Vergil nodded with a tired smile, and with that, you left the room down the hallway, until you got to the main entrance. The smell of bleach still lingered in the air, threatening to recall the nausea you had the night before, but you managed to subdue it as you made your way to the kitchen. But before you could, you stopped and stared.

There, in a perfectly cleaned up room was Dante, sprawled out on his armchair, passed out, and smelling faintly of lemon cleaner. A rattling snore indicated that he was sleeping and not dead. Beside him, curled up on the couch was lady, and like her cleaning partner, she was also in a deep sleep. But instead of a blanket, a familiar looking red coat had been placed gently over her, which she gripped like it was a security blanket. Part of you wanted to take a photo of this touching scene, for <strike>blackmail</strike> memory's sake, but you chose not to. After all, she had managed to do the impossible: wrangle Dante into cleaning his place. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Furniture and other assorted items that had been askew or broken was now set back or thrown out. And the floor had been swept...and mopped? The two of them had really outdone themselves. And thankfully, no trace of bodies, aside from a lumpy black ammo bag that was bulging at the seams with looted items, placed near the door.

Despite the fact that they'd broken into (your) home, and threatened (your son) Nero, you still felt a tinge of guilt at killing people. After all, they were merely following the orders of a deranged madman. But still...that was no excuse to attack an innocent boy (a part of you still thought you were trying to find excuses to absolve you of the feelings of responsibility.)

After setting the kettle to boil, you made your phone call to the school, using the excuse that there was an illness going on in the household, and that Nero would need to take a few days off. Perhaps the demonic arm would wear off on its own. Although all children could be cruel, Mainland kids seemed less phased about unusual appearances than their Fortuna counterparts, and individuality was more prized. Worst case scenario, Vergil would have some very pointed words at the next PTA meeting.

As you prepared the cup, you realized to your annoyance that the sugar bowl was empty. _Dante most likely, who had converted Nero to dumping an unhealthy amount on their cereal every morning. _And of course, the big bag of sugar was on top of the fridge, just out of reach.

Standing on your tiptoes (ignoring the slight pain in your ankle from last night) your managed to graze your fingertips against the thick paper but still couldn't get enough friction to get a hold on it. Perhaps if you rocked it back a bit, it would rock forward and-

Suddenly, a hand belonging to someone a bit taller than you reached out and grabbed the bag easily. Turning around, you saw the grinning face of Dante, holding the bag to his chest. You placed your hands out to receive it from him, but instead, he walked past you and placed it on the counter beside the empty bowl.

“Don't want you hurting yourself” he explained when he saw your perplexed face. “It's kinda heavy.”

You scoffed “Dante, it's only a couple of pounds, besides, I'm not made of glass,” you spooned sugar into the bowl, and then added a couple more spoonfuls into the waiting teacup before adding an earl grey tea bag into it. “I almost held my own against an entire squadron of soldiers last night, I don't this a bag of sugar will bring me down.”

“Still, better to be safe than sorry,” he replied, and it looked like he wanted to add something else, a quip or something, but surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut.

“Thank you though,” you assured him, as you brought the kettle over to the cup (out of the corner of your eye, you could see him freeze) “for the sugar, of course, but as well as cleaning up and.... you know, saving us”

His hand swung back to scratch the back of his neck “Well, he is my brother after all, no matter how annoying he may be,” he looked down, almost bashful “Nero would never have forgiven me” The message was clear, _he would have never forgiven himself._

You attempted to pick up the now lighter sugar bag, but quick as a flash, he had grabbed it, and placed it right back up onto the fridge. _What was with him today? Was it the near miss of last night? _ So you contented yourself into stirring the tea, and then tossing the bag out.

“Uh” he interrupted, “you sure you should be drinking that?”

“Oh, it's not mine, it's for Vergil,” you responded, puzzled, “why?”

“I just realized .... IthinkIfogottocleanacornerthatstillhasglass” the words jumbled out of his mouth and he <strike>fled</strike> left the room at a breakneck pace.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took the teacup on its little plate, and retraced your steps (Dante was nowhere to be seen, and you could have sworn that Lady clutched his coat even tighter than before) _What was with his behaviour?_

It was only when you were halfway down the hallway when you stopped and the mental light bulb turned on. _Did Dante know?_ His over protective behaviour reflected some of the websites more extreme recommendations, but how in the hell would he have found out? The only piece of evidence you had was the kit in the nightstand in the bedroom, waiting to be revealed to Vergil, and Dante wouldn't dare snoop through it, on pain of getting part his anatomy chopped off. Of course there was the other kit you tested, just to make sure the result wasn't a fluke, but that had been safely disposed into the.....

_Well shit..._

As quick as you could with a cup of scalding hot tea in your hand, you rushed to the bathroom, to find it completely spotless, with a fresh new garbage bag beside the toilet. _Oh no..._ Dante was horrible at keeping his mouth shut, and it would only be a matter of time before the mountain of beans would be spilled. Well, there was nothing to do but tell him. After last night though, it would be a miracle if he let you leave the Devil May Cry business ever again.

You entered the bedroom to find Vergil sitting up, book in his lap, but he wasn't reading. The drawer of the nightstand lay open, which was odd, seeing as he was constantly nagging his brother to close the kitchen drawers.

The reason became clear and you followed his eyes to the little plastic baggie that sat on top of the book.

_The pregnancy test..._

_The positive pregnancy test..._

“Vergil...” you ventured, hoping to gently break him out of his trance. As you slowly set the plate down and gently closed the drawer, his eyes arced slowly from the kit to you.

“Forgive me if I am reading this wrong, I've never had to... but... is” he paused, momentarily at a loss for words, so unlike him, “does this mean what I think it does? Are you...”

His hands were trembling, causing the little bag that kept it sanitary to crinkle. You sat down on the edge of the bed and placed your hands on top of his, stilling them, allowing him to use you as emotional grounding.

“Yes,” you whispered, still hoping not to wake (your) slumbering child next to him, “I'm pregnant”

“H-how long?”

You looked upwards, doing the mental math. “Oh, I'd say...about three and a half weeks, give or take a few days. I took the test a few days ago, when my usual cycle was nearly a week late”

Vergil was a pale man, but somehow all traces of blood now left his face “Last night...”

“I made sure to keep my midsection protected, and at this stage of pregnancy, it's not as delicate as you may think it would be. But I'll be going in for a check up as soon as possible”

“But if you had gotten hurt-”

“It would have been my choice. My choice to keep N- my son safe.” you stared intently at him, shutting off any other protestations from him. “It would be no different than you placing yourself in harms way to protect him. Besides,” you continued, your smile returning, “everything turned out alright in the end, yes....?” You trailed off a bit, slightly nervous at his reaction to this news.

Looking down back at the kit, his right hand slowly left the confines of your hands, and tentatively stroked your stomach.

“You know,” you giggled, “it's far to early to feel anything, the kid's the size of a poppy seed” but his left arm pulled you into his chest, close enough for you to hear his heartbeat racing, betraying his true feelings.

“My Dearest Evening Star...” he murmured into your hair, before pulling your chin up and giving you a passionate kiss. Your lips eagerly opened to allow his tongue to explore, and he in turn reciprocated the gesture. All the while his right hand slowly caressed your belly, regardless of what you may have told him.

The tender moment was only broken by the sound of exaggerated gagging coming from beside him. Nero glared at you both with bleary eyes.

“Do you guys have to do that yucky stuff right in front of me?”

You felt yourself flush at his accusation, and the blood that had drained out of Vergil's face earlier suddenly flooded back in.

“Nero,” Vergil attempted to be stern... but his soft smile was unmistakable. “We have something important to tell you...”

The tea on the nightstand was forgotten until it long lost any warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends another era in this series.... and marks the beginning of a new one. Thank you for reading, kudoing, and commenting!
> 
> So, the first story, Polaris is a three star system. Capella, on the other hand, is a four star system.


End file.
